


Lost and Lonely

by VarjoRuusu



Category: Black Sails
Genre: 10 Years Later Fic, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Silver/Flint/Hamilton, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Silver has a kid fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 08:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: Ten years. Ten long years since that day in the woods, since John Silver had stood with a pistol trained on his captain, his friend. Ten years since he'd ended their war, because he'd been too weak to see it to its end, too weak to risk losing the people he cared about the most, even if the cause had been of such great impact.





	Lost and Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> This was so popular over on tumblr I decided to continue it, so I'm posting here as well. Enjoy!

Ten years. Ten long years since that day in the woods, since John Silver had stood with a pistol trained on his captain, his friend. Ten years since he'd ended their war, because he'd been too weak to see it to its end, too weak to risk losing the people he cared about the most, even if the cause had been of such great impact. 

Now he stood on a small hill, crutch tucked under one arm, the other wrapped tightly around the child clinging to him, staring down into the valley. 

The house was nondescript, much like Mrs. Barlow's house had been, all those years ago. It was small, whitewashed with a straw thatched roof, a small garden in the front surrounded by a sturdy looking fence. The gate was painted green. It reminded Silver of a cottage he'd seen in a painting of Ireland once. There was a snuffle against his shoulder and John sighed, adjusting the weight in his arm and starting down the hill slowly.

The sun was starting to dip by the time he reached the gate, nudging it open with his crutch to slowly approach the door. There was no sign of movement inside, thought there was a light, as if from a lantern in the room furthest to the east, and Silver knew someone was home. He just didn't know what would greet him when the door opened. Taking a deep breath he whispered a few words and the child reached out and rapped on the door loudly.

There was silence for a long while, then footsteps approached and Silver did everything he could to calm his heart as it threatened to beat out of his chest.

The door swung open and cold green eyes met his, the smile he had directed at the child dropping as Flint's eyes widened, then narrowed, taking in him, the crutch, the child, the small bag tied around his waist. He wanted to step back under the weight of the gaze, but he refused to break so easily.

“I had nowhere else to go,” he whispered finally and to his great surprise, Flint stepped aside and gestured him in, his eyes on the child the whole time.

Silver entered the cottage carefully, looking around for signs of a second inhabitant. There were indications, certainly, but it didn't appear that Thomas was there at that present moment.

“What happened?” Flint asked quietly, his voice a little rougher than Silver remembered. His eyes were still on the child.

“Sickness,” Silver said quietly. “It took so many...”

“When did you last eat?” Flint asked, heading for the small kitchen, tucked out of the way in the northwest corner of the main room. Silver glanced down at the boy on his hip, seeing his was sound asleep. 

Carefully he set the boy in the large chair in front of the empty fireplace, tucking him under a blanket before joining Flint in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” he said softly when Flint put a large slice of cheese and a hunk of bread in front of him, still digging in the cupboards for other food. He produced an apple and some dried grapes, alone with a bottle of rum, and set them before Silver.

“Madi?” he asked softly as Silver began to eat, watching the other man carefully.

Silver glanced at him, taking in the changes in the dim candle light. The red was streaked with grey and the lines around his eyes were deeper. His beard was still as red as ever, fuller now, not quite so carefully trimmed. His hair fell past his shoulders, tied back with a black silk ribbon, and gold still sparkled in one ear, despite the years that had passed.

“Gone,” Silver said quietly. “It took so many...our...” 

He fell silent, looking away, his eyes resting on the child by the fireplace. 

“John?” Flint prompted after a long moment, laying on hand on Silver's wrist. 

“Our daughter,” he whispered. “It took our daughter...then it took Madi...then...by that point so many were sick, there was nothing more I could do...we fled.”

“Your son?” Flint asked, nodding to the boy. There was no mistaking his parents, with his hair as black and curly as his fathers and his skin a few shades darker, like his mother. John nodded quietly, reaching for the rum and taking a drink.

“How did you know how to find me?” Flint asked after a while. Silver glanced up at him then looked away.

“I've always known,” he said softly. “I never lost track of you. I just never knew if you'd kill me the minute you saw my face again.”

Flint sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Ten years puts many perspectives on otherwise difficult situations,” he admitted.

“Those sound like Thomas' words,” Silver chuckled, finally looking at Flint again, catching his smile.

“They are,” Flint admitted with a laugh. “My temper has cooled, not vanished,” he grinned and suddenly Silver was transported back ten years, to a day in a boat, when they hunted the most unlikely pray together.

“Thank you,” Silver said, reaching his hand out and laying it over Flint's. “I don't deserve your kindness, after what happened.”

Flint sighed, then shrugged. “You did what you felt was right...you likely saved my life. I know you saved Thomas', and the scores of men I would have killed, or gotten killed, to settle my feud. And besides...the outcome wasn't so bad.”

“Where is he?” Silver asked softly and Flint laughed.

“London, as it happens. Won't be back for a few weeks yet.”

Silver smiled, moving to pull his hand away when Flint twisted his own hand and laced their fingers together, holding tight.

“John, I owe you thanks, for being able to see beyond the horizon I painted for myself. For being able to see that I'd been carried away to madness by my drive for revenge. I owe you thanks for stopping me before I burned the entire world to the ground.”

Silver shifted, then squeezed Flint's fingers. “The world deserved to burn,” he admitted, anger in his voice as tears gathered in his eyes. “But I couldn't bare to see you burn yourself with it.”

“I know, and I'm sorry,” Flint whispered.

“It's the past now...” Silver said softly.

“You need to sleep,” Flint observed. “And bathe.” At that Silver snorted.

“I'm sure I do,” he grumbled. “A change of clothes wouldn't go amiss either.”

“I'll see what I can do in the morning,” Flint promised, squeezing Silver's fingers once more before he rose. “I think sleep is the priority.”

“If you say so, captain,” Silver chuckled, his voice weak as he rose slowly from the table, his arm shaking where he held the handle of the crutch. Flint caught him as he collapsed.

“Bed,” he grunted, hauling Silver's weight up and against him, practically carrying the other man to the bedroom and dumping him unceremoniously on the unmade bed.

“I feel there's a comment here,” Silver muttered sleepily and Flint snorted as he tugged his single boot off.

“Save it,” Flint muttered with a chuckle. Silver just hummed.

“Your boy,” Flint said, tugging a cover over Silver. “What's his name? I don't want to frighten him if he wakes.”

Silver didn't answer and Flint sighed, turning to the door, nearly gone before…

“James.”

Flint turned to see Silver's blue eyes watching him.

“His name is James.”


End file.
